Toothpaste
by PumpkinPancakes
Summary: Short story.


Ness opened his eyes slowly and for the brief moment of consciousness between sleep and waking up all he could was stare out the open window next to their bed as the snow drifted though and settled on his cheek and nose. When it became clear to him that it was in fact snowing outside and that the window probably shouldn't be open he strained to reach his hand out and close it, but he was inches short. Paula stirred slightly in her sleep, her lips opened and drug across the skin on his chest before she let her hips fall forward onto his thigh. With the palm of his hand he stroked her shoulder and she instinctively gripped at his forearm; where her arm rest, body heat slowly seeping through the tips of her fingers into his pale winter skin. 

The clock on the bedside dresser was flashing: _12:00 _and Ness took another glance out the window. The sun was hidden behind the gray december haze, small halos of white echoed out from it's vague and hidden resting spot. He sighed, but not unhappily, in some small contentment that only the moment could bring him. He slowly maneuvered his body out from beneath Paula's: lifting her arm up and then setting it down close to her body, kissing her on the cheek as he placed a pillow under her head and then sitting up carefully on the edge of the bed and checking his jean pockets for any loose change before sliding them up buttoning them around his waist. He tucked the two comforters they had slept under last night in around her back and shoulders before carefully walking out into the small living room. 

The walls were covered in small sheets of paper, mostly things Paula had drawn over the last summer after they had moved in together. Some were connected with little pieces of string, Ness ducked under one line that separated the kitchen from the small flowery couch they had found in a back alley near a dumpster and had lovingly restored with fabric bought at the department store. They told a sort of story: a picture of a small wharf tied with a piece of blue thread to an ominous view of a shadow hiding beneath an expanse of ocean, a web of red and yellow yarn connecting the sketches she had done of Ness' eyes and mouth, a blond boy with glasses to an abstract piece of a pair of red lips in a dark area. 

Ness lit the stove after a few clicks and the small fire crackled before settling into a shape and form. He pulled down a mixing bowl from the white cupboards and filled it halfway with water before pulling it away from the sink and dumping in an estimated portion of pancake batter. Before long the kitchen smelled the hearty sweet scent of buttermilk and syrup, and he took a few bites of the meal before he cut up a strawberry and put the plate on the table with a small lid over it, to keep it warm. He tied up the trash bag and pulled it out of the can, setting it just outside of the kitchen entryway before replacing it with another of it's kind. 

He slowly opened the front door and pulled his shoes on with no socks, wrapped a scarf around his neck and slipped into his quilted black overcoat before stepping outside into two inches of snow. The cold bit at his ankles and he bent over to tuck his pant legs into his shoes and set off down the stairs in front of their apartment. He held the rail with one hand and kept the trash bag held away from his body with the other. It smelled like rotting banana peels.

Ness anxiously crept down the two flights of stairs and then slid across the small parking lot to the small walled enclosure where the dumpster was hidden from view. The wooden handle on the gate was bitterly cold so he gripped it with his coat sleeve and it chirped over the ice as it opened. The steam rolling out of his open mouth rose quickly through his scattered black hair. He pried the lid a few inches off the dumpster and stuffed the bag into quickly and then retreated from the smell, which was tangible even in the snow's cascade. 

He started walking over the grass and onto the crumpled sidewalk that skirted the apartment building. Down to the intersection then across it across the slick road towards the city park. There were no people making their way through the snow, where there usually would be a family or two building a snowman or a couple talking through each other's crystalline breath and leaning in close for warmth. He wondered about the time and dug his cell phone out of his pocket, it had run out of batteries so he continued on. He tried to stay on the path but every so often he would sink up to his knee in the snow as he looked out over the white sea. 

He swept a bench seat off and sat on the chilled plastic, breathing on his hands an smiling to himself. He could see Monotoli tower surrounded by a low cloud, and to the south the Natural History Museum looked as if it were just carved from a snow drift. He looked back to see if he could see his window, but a bare and bleached tree family obscured his view. He closed his eyes and rubbed his cheeks slowly, the slow friction kept him from falling asleep.

A hand fell on his shoulder and he jumped a little, looking up quickly and, disoriented, finally finding the figure behind him. A tall man stood there, a dark, beaked mask covered his nose and eyes, but his pale and stubbly chin stood to contrast. A smoking cigarette loosely hung between his two off white lips. His massive black overcoat and black feathers cast a deep shadow over Ness. The figure stared off into the park and Ness sat with his neck cocked backwards, trembling both from the cold and surprise. 

"Can, um, can I help you?"

The figure stood silently, no white air settled from his breath. The smoke from the cigarette filtered under the black edge of the mask and came whispering out through the holes cut for the eyes. Ness shifted and tried to slip from the man's hand, but the grip tightened and Ness grew frustrated. He spoke calmly, "Could you please not touch me?"

Another hand struck him smartly on the neck, grasping his coat and pulling him around, another masked man over him and the bench, this one with a longed, curved beak on his disguise, the same cigarette held carelessly at the edge of his mouth. Ness clenched his fist and his knuckles popped like a gunshot in the silent tension. They raised their arms around his and he tried ducked but their hold on him was overpowering. He closed his eyes and tightened his body, bringing his arms up to cover his face. 

No blows came. Ness peered out of one eye and there was nothing but blackness to be seen. The wavering sheen of feathers shifted into and then out of view. Ness heard their cigarettes burning on either side of him, felt the heat on the tips of his ears. The pressure of their weight on his arms and shoulders. 

"Are you listening, Ness?" two voices surrounded him.

He nodded slowly, eyes darting from side to side. 

They spoke again:

"In one a year; you will die."

"What?" The weight lifted from his shoulders, their grips fell limp and the snow came blindingly back into view beneath their long coats. A crow bit him on the cheek and then with a push lifted off his shoulder and clipped him with it's open wings as it grew away from the ground.

He stoop up and felt weak. He turned in place for a moment, but they were gone.

He walked back across the park quickly, down the sidewalk and back up the stairs. He quietly opened the door and stepped out of his shoes, walked into the kitchen and let a small drip stream of hot water run over his hands, he rubbed his face and let his skin come back to room temperature. Even then, he turned on the tiny space heater in the living room and held his hands close to it until it was fully running. He slipped his coat off and let it fall over the covered plate, full of now cold pancakes, and without a word crawled under the sheets and kissed Paula on the forehead. She muttered, "Your lips are so cold," and moved into his open arms, kissing him twice on the chest before falling asleep again. A content smile stuck on her sleeping mouth.


End file.
